


Just Dance

by Venstar



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 02:22:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8427415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venstar/pseuds/Venstar
Summary: Q walks in on some agents, absolutely killing it at Just Dance 4.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roseforthethorns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseforthethorns/gifts).



> thebookworm214 and i collaborated...or challenged each other to write Dancey Dance fics. Go check out hers to see what we each coerced each other to do.

[Just Dance 4 Gangnam Style](https://youtu.be/Rjq2_Mg3pSA)

Q had been on duty for the past 48 hours, he was tired, he was cold and he was very hungry.  Dinner time was upon him and he wasn’t sure when it was that he’d eaten real food.  Eager to get inside, to James, a shower, food and his bed, he paused at the entrance to the converted townhome that housed the flat that he and Bond called home.  Old Mrs. McMurtry, who lived in the flat below theirs, was just walking out.  He pasted a pleasant smile on his face and shuffled his laptop case to the side as he pleasantly held the door for her until she glared at him, “You need to tell your young man that he needs to keep down the noise or I’m telling the Landlord.  Playing that god awful noise, what you young un’s call music these days.  Hurts my ears.”  She poked the point of her umbrella into Q’s chest and hustled away, dragging her beloved maltese, Bernard along with her.  The dog looked back at Q, as if to say, “Help me.”

Still holding the door open, Q could...just...barely hear the odd beat of bass drifting down the stairs.  He rolled his eyes, James must be blaring his albums as loud as he could, just to annoy Old Mrs. Mac.  Some days, when Q was late, and he was banned from MI-6, he could be found annoying the neighbors.  Q thought it was because if he caused enough trouble, he’d get a phone call from the landlord asking, no begging him to come home and sort out his manic boyfriend.  “Boyfriend.  More like overgrown Manfriend.”  Q grumbled and his stomach grumbled along with him.  “My kingdom for a cup of tea.”

Q padded softly up the stairs, the music getting louder and louder with each landing.  He could hear why Old Mrs. Mac would be up in arms.  Aside from the overloud music, there was odd thumping noises.  “Oh shit,” he whispered to himself.  James was either fighting or fucking.  Q sniggered at his own joke.  If he was fighting, it was probably with Alec.  That Russian bastard of a best friend had finally waltzed into MI6 several hours ago, bloody and non-repentant at the equipment he failed to return.  One of the idiots must have turned the music up to hide the sound of them letting off some steam.

Apparently, with the blaring music, neither Alec or James heard Q disarm the security system and let himself inside.  The very hungry, sleepy Quartermaster stood peering around the threshold to the living room and the scene before him.  James was bent over at the waist, his hands on his knees body heaving as he tried to draw oxygen into his lungs.  Alec, was standing upright, his hands on his hips as he swiveled them around, he leaned to the left and then to the right, stretching.  Both men were sweaty, their hair dark with it and dressed in gym shorts and ratty, stretched out t-shirts.  Q’s eyes widened like an owl’s behind his glasses as the flat screen television that was mounted to the wall lit up, bright and colorful.  More music spilling from the speakers.

“You be Psy this time, I’ll take the girl.”  Alec said, swinging his arms in front of him.

“Got it,” said James, standing back up and cracking his vertebrae.

“Once more old son, once more unto the breach.”

“Shut up and dance.”

Q placed a hand in front of his mouth as the Gangnam Style version for Just Dance 4 started playing.  Off went both agents, not clumsy and super familiar with the routine.  Q held his laughter in and himself together until the partnering section came on and the two agents skipped around in a circle.  Q lost it.  He lost it so hard, his bag hit the floor and then he did.  Two sets of bare feet padded up to him and he couldn’t breathe.

“Is he laughing at us?”  James asked, nudging Q with his foot.

“I think he’s laughing at us.”  Alec said.

“Do it again,” Q laughed, “do it again!”

James smiled down at him and gave him a hand up.  “Now, now.  It’s time for good little Quartermasters to be in bed.”

“You’re exhausted Q, take a load off.”  Alec agreed. He reached down and plucked Q’s laptop bag from the floor and slung it around his shoulders.  Together, two of MI6’s deadly, double-ohs herded a laughing Quartermaster through his evening preparations for bed.  It was very hard to brush one’s teeth while laughing.  


End file.
